


Otornassë Avanwa

by pippychick (orphan_account)



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bondage, Canonical Character Death, Graphic Description, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Other - Freeform, Sibling Incest, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-09
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-08-30 01:43:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8513857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/pippychick
Summary: A slash story about Curufin and Celegorm, sons of Fëanor, who lived, fought and played together and who were never parted, not even in death.Update: Ao3's policy of blaming authors for abuse they receive means that this story will not be continued here. Please look to: http://lotr.adult-fanfiction.org/story.php?no=600081682 Thank you.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [curufins-smile](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=curufins-smile).



> **Author’s Note:** Hello, everyone! This story is a special request, written for curufins-smile on tumblr. Note the warnings: here be incest. 
> 
>  
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own the world of the Silmarillion, Middle Earth or any of the characters. Everything belongs to Tolkien. I make no money from this work of fanfiction.

#  Otornassë Avanwa

 

**Chapter One**

 

… _ I call the Everlasting Dark upon me... any Vala, Demon, Elf or Man as yet unborn... _

The dark-haired elf turned restlessly in his sleep. One could not say his dreams were troubled as such. They were dreams which he would not remember upon awakening.

_...witness this Manwë, Varda... _

Curufin mouthed the words, echoing the awful finality of that hollow, thundering voice, his own lips moving in silence as he unconsciously repeated it, the terrible oath. And yet, it had led to the Noldor returning to Middle Earth, to set Morgoth to rout. His father...

An image of him, his eyes blazing fierce despite the mortal nature of his wounds. Defeated and tormented by balrogs, formerly Maiar. No one could be expected to stand against them, and yet his father had, in pride and overconfidence. In desperate pursuit. In fire that dwelt in his spirit, as hotly as it resided in the twisted forms of the balrogs Morgoth had created. There was a terrible parallel which Curufin refused to see, even in his dreams. And so Fëanor's spirit fled, his body burned away to ash, the shape of his countenance holding on the wind for a breathless moment; austere, ferocious, drawing the promise of his sons to abide by the oath they all made.

_...bring back the light... recover the Silmarils... _

And then he was gone, scattered to the winds, leaving their arms empty. The weight settled instead in their minds and hearts. Such a burden they carried with them that day...

Curufin jerked awake, his mind mercifully mostly blank. Fire and ashes... had he been dreaming? With a frown he pulled himself into a sitting position on his bedroll. The fire let off a drifting column of smoke that blew onto him occasionally, no doubt the cause of his dreams of flames, but his brother was nowhere to be seen. Even if there was no danger here, if the pass was held, it was not right to leave him sleeping, alone and defenceless.

With rather more temper, Curufin stood up, buckling his sword belt on in sharp jerking movements and kicking earth over the remnants of the fire. A sun had risen, still low in the east, and though it was bright and warm, a cold wind blew from the north. The wind always blew across the plain, and Curufin resisted the urge to shiver. His keen eyes pierced the landscape, looking for Celegorm. It was no good living like this. They needed to build a dwelling to keep the forsaken wind out.

It blew his hair about, whipping it onto his face playfully, so he took out a narrow black velvet tie and bound it back. As he finished, he heard hoof beats cantering to him from behind, and he turned to see his brother. The horse gentled to a sedate trot, then a walk and Celegorm leapt to the ground in one easy fluid movement, stopping to converse with the animal.

It was difficult to remain out of sorts when the horse tossed its head and nuzzled Celegorm, affectionate. All of the horses loved him. He rode them without tack, clinging to their mane like some fey and wild elf of the woods. The horse was dapple grey, a perfect accompaniment to Celegorm's lighter colouring. Curufin wandered up to them.

“You should wake me when you leave, _ háno _ ,” he said. “I dislike awakening alone.”

The horse snorted and tossed its head at his words, and Celegorm laughed, his arms around its neck. Curufin tilted his head. “He wants to know if you are my lover and keeper as well as my brother,” he said by way of explanation. Curufin scowled a little, while Celegorm sent the stallion away with a light slap.

“Do not mind him,” Celegorm said lightly, stepping to their makeshift camp to put down the brace of rabbits he had captured and killed. “He sees nothing wrong in it. They do not keep the same sensibilities as we do.” Curufin followed his brother, looking down at the fare. The plain did not provide much to eat. Rabbit for breakfast, lunch, and probably dinner. Whose idea was it for them to take these lands anyway?

Noting his glare, Celegorm shrugged, and then as if reading his mind, he said: “You wanted to come here.”

So it had been his idea. Curufin was annoyed at the reminder, but said nothing.

“Do not be dismissive of them, _moina_ _háno_. They sacrificed their lives for ours, and gave me sport, even in this empty land.”

At the lecture, Curufin rolled his eyes and ground his teeth. Still, he thought, brightening. A few more and he would have another rabbit skin cloak to keep off the wind.

“You have destroyed the fire,” Celegorm noted with a slight sigh, building it up again, shielding the kindling as he struck sparks with a piece of flint.

“The smoke was annoying me,” he said, taking off his sword again and sinking down onto the ground, pulling his cloak around him.

Celegorm gave him a sidelong glance. “You could have added wood. You knew I would be back with breakfast.”

“Did I?” Curufin responded, unwilling to let his resentment go completely. His brother did not answer, but concentrated on nursing the small flame he had made, moving so as to block just enough of the wind so it would catch on the larger pieces of wood he had arranged.

Curufin took the opportunity to study his brother. He was known as Celegorm the Fair because of his colouring, but he was fair in so many ways. Perhaps the horse saw it too. He was younger than Celegorm, but they had always been close, which was why they took this land between them. Unwilling to be parted, they had agreed to guard the pass to the north.

With a sigh, Curufin roughly knocked Celegorm to one side, onto his back, tired of the gentle admonishment and older brother treatment. Now he saw fire in his brother, never mind messing around with the little flames of their camp. Celegorm fought him, snarling, kicking with his feet and rolling them around in the dust. At one point, Curufin found his face pressed into the ground and he tasted it, his teeth felt rough with it as he broke the hold and gained the advantage.

They did not play, but fought with each other as only brothers can, hurting each other, each giving as good as they got, but it was Curufin who won this time, holding Celegorm still on the ground beneath him. “Do you give?” he demanding, turning his face away to spit the dirt from his mouth.

When he turned back, Celegorm was still and quiet, his fair skin coloured pink with exercise and exertion, his lips red. He seemed different, not defeated but merely undone. He gave Curufin a considering look. “Don't tell me you never thought of it,” he said, and he didn't need to elaborate. Curufin knew exactly what he meant.

“Of course I have,” he said, annoyed anew, and as he said it he imagined how it might feel if they were... if they did. What Celegorm's face might look like when Curufin breached him. What his moans might sound like. All at once, he let his brother go, unwilling to see the curiosity that suddenly lit up in his eyes.

“Oh, my,” Celegorm taunted, as gentle as ever. “Are you afraid?”

Slowly, Curufin turned his head. Deliberately, he caught Celegorm's face in both of his hands, then leaned forward, brushing his lips against his brother's. It had always been like this between them. Any time Celegorm had wanted to get him into trouble, he had only to dare. And if this wasn't trouble, then he was not Fëanorion. Celegorm's lips were soft and warm, yielding, which made Curufin press closer with a little sigh. The lips beneath his parted slightly, and Curufin followed suit, feeling his blood ripple with forbidden pleasure.

It occurred to him that Celegorm was not pulling away, that he was not disconcerted by Curufin's daring. In fact, he seemed to enjoy what was happening. Well, there was a way to solve that! Curufin suddenly deepened the kiss, tasting his brother as he would any other lover. He just barely had time to notice how pleasant Celegorm tasted before hands were pressing against his chest to push him away. Curufin let him go with a stilted laugh.

“I don't think you should do that,” Celegorm said softly. His brother's skin felt heated below his palms as he let go, and his gaze drifted down, pleased somehow when he saw what his kiss had done. Curufin laughed loudly.

“You know what that is a result of?” he said, gesturing. “Talking to animals too much! You need a lover, no doubt.”

After that morning, they got busy with the other elves who'd come with them to fortify the pass. They built an abode, which took weeks, and yet the moment of that encounter never really did leave Curufin's mind. He began to pay even more attention to Celegorm's habits, watching to see if he favoured anyone, if he took time with anyone, but he could not mark it.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

When their reign was well underway, and they were living in comfort for a change, Curufin found his mind straying to Celegorm's habits, and they concerned him. He'd had lovers in Aman. There he had not been so celibate, so what was wrong with him now? Had their father's death affected him so deeply that it had killed something in him?

One day, when he'd had enough of wondering, and the wolfhound was out hunting alone in the southern woods, Curufin strode into his brother's room, paying no heed to the birds that suddenly chirped in alarm and flew out of the window. He grabbed a chair and placed it down by the side of the bed where Celegorm lay reading a book.

“You always scare away my friends,” he observed mildly, without looking up.

“You need better friends,” Curufin said in return, flopping down into the chair arrogantly. “Don't think I haven't noticed. You aren't getting into the spirit of this thing,  _ háno _ . You should be mixing.”

Celegorm turned a page in his book and sniffed. “Mixing!” he exclaimed, as if Curufin had made a particularly tasteless joke. He put the book aside and looked up at last, moving to sit up on the bed, cross-legged. “You should not tie your hair like that,” he said, nodding at the black velvet Curufin was using to bind his hair back from his face. If you must, then weave the braids of our rank into it. Like that, you look like one of those men,” he said with distaste.

The chair he was sitting in had a low back, so Curufin sprawled out in it, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. “Why don't you do it for me then?” he demanded, not expecting anything to come of it, yet he heard Celegorm get up and stand behind him, pulling the tie from his hair so that it was loose and flowing. He smiled with his eyes closed at the unexpected treat.

Feeling the touch of the brush against his scalp, Curufin relaxed as his brother tended to his unruly dark hair, sighing in pleasure. It was like being back, before all of this, when they played and tended to each other in the light of the trees. At times like these, he felt the difference in their ages more keenly. When he was an elfling, Celegorm had loved to play with his hair, which was odd because his hair was nothing out of the ordinary. Celegorm's silver hair was an oddity among the Noldor, and yet... this...

So gently did Celegorm remove the little knots and lugs in his hair it felt like heaven. Then his nimble fingers were working on elaborate braids. “Why do you like my hair so much?” he asked, sounding innocent despite everything, so relaxed now he felt he might fall asleep. Every part of him felt warmed and cherished by Celegorm's attention.

“Why do you not,  _ mórëfindë _ ?” Celegorm teased. His elegant, gentle hands guided Curufin to turn a little. “Move your head this way,  _ pia háno _ ,” he murmured, and his voice was so deep and rich. Was this how he spellbound all the animals he knew? Petting their hair, fur or feathers until they gave in to him? He felt tamed when Celegorm did this, and he could not deny it.

Yet his thoughts of his brother had turned in a different fashion just lately. Obsessed by watching, waiting to be sure he indulged himself with any partner... but there was none. When Celegorm was working on the last braid near his left ear, he reached out and grabbed Celegorm's wrist.

“We need to talk,” he said, holding that wrist fast.

“I have nearly finished,” Celegorm whispered, and there was something in the way he said it. Slowly, Curufin brought that wrist to his lips, kissing the inside of it as Celegorm gasped, trying to pull away. But not trying too hard, Curufin noted. He sighed. They really did have to talk.

  
  


To be continued…

 

**Translations (Quenya):**

_ háno _ \- brother

_moina_ _háno -_ dear brother

_ mórëfindë _ \- nighthair

_ pia háno -  _ little brother

 

**Author’s Note:** Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Comments welcome and loved - I will respond :)


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

Around five minutes later, they were arguing heatedly. Curufin swore for the tenth time, trying to get his point across.

“It’s quiet now, but if you think I’m going to face a battle with you all off kilter because you haven’t been listening to your desires... no! I won't have it! I can’t rely on you if you intend on frustrating yourself.” He folded his arms, quite serious. “There are plenty of elves to choose from. Pick one and relieve your lust!”

A mirthless laugh from Celegorm, his eyes flashing at Curufin’s blunt talk. “What? Those Sindar? Don’t make me laugh!”

“What is wrong with them?” Curfuin asked, but he knew very well what Celegorm’s problem was. He had standards that the Sindar elves who’d come with them here did not satisfy.

“These are elves whose forebears did not have the courage to complete the great journey. They stayed huddled in the dark instead of drinking in the light of the trees. They don’t understand why we all travelled back, no matter how we explain to them. They cannot conceive of it. They have no connection to the light - not like us. And now, they see us as saviours. They’ve no pride. Little more than cattle. Do you expect me to sully myself with them? Truly?”

Curufin smirked. He felt the same way, of course, but the eloquent way Celegorm put it made him feel a sudden flare of fierce love for his older brother. It occurred to him that it was a good job they were arguing in Quenya. Most of the younger Sindar elves who came here with them wouldn’t understand much of what they said, if any of it.

“You seem to like animals well enough,” he shot back. “Anyway, you don’t have to love them. Just… _use_ one or two of them.”

“It would debase me,” Celegorm insisted, as if that was the end of it. Curufin sighed.

“Well, then, what about the other Noldor who came with us? Could you not make do with one of them?”

“I know the taste and scent of each one of them, far better than I wish to. If I didn’t want anything more to do with them in Valinor, I certainly don’t want anything to do with them here.”

Curufin put a hand to his hair, to run his fingers through it in exasperation, but instead encountered the intricate braids Celegorm had woven for him a short time ago.

“We should have brought Glorfindel here,” Celegorm said, considering. “I would have gladly lain with him. Like Galadriel, he caught the light of Laurelin in his hair. Have you seen it? He is a living Silmaril, I swear…” Celegorm’s voice trailed off into a private fantasy, and Curufin shook his head.

“You’re going to find yourself lost in dreams like that when Morgoth’s Orcs are upon you. And me.”

Celegorm frowned, but Curufin’s patience was worn out, and he moved quickly forward, grabbing his brother’s arms. Celegorm was so surprised by Curufin's actions he did nothing, so Curufin kissed him for the second time, only drawing back when he felt resistance.

“Let me say this, then I will leave you to it. If I don’t see you with someone soon. Say, within a week, I’ll see to you myself.” He'd meant it as a threat, but the sudden heat in Celegorm's gaze disconcerted him more than he would ever admit.

“So you intend to hunt the hunter, do you?” Celegorm murmured, suddenly amused, still with that molten look in his eyes. “Be careful that you do not get hurt, _moina háno_.” Celegorm reached up with a hand, brushed a thumb over his lips. “I have been lenient with you, have I not?”

As he stared, Curufin had the disturbing impression that his brother had marked him as prey, like a deer or a bird he intended to bring down. For a single breathless moment he had an impression of himself being chased through the southern woods with Celegorm hot on his heels. Perhaps with Huan growling alongside him, a rush of grey in the dark shadows between the trees. Shaking himself free of that thought, he turned away, unwilling to let Celegorm's intimidation work on him.

“One week,” he warned, and then swept out of the room in a temper, hearing the chirping of the birds at the window again as Celegorm laughed lightly, amused at some private thought of his own.

Over the next week, he did not cease in his study of Celegorm's habits, and in truth he wondered if he would be able to carry out his threat. At least at the beginning, for he began to look at his brother in an entirely different way. Oh, he'd always seen Celegorm's beauty, but now he paid especial attention to the pleasing length of his limbs, the elegance of his long-fingered hands, the way his hair shone in the sun. He did not wear dark colours, and it complimented him.

Curufin watched him with his beloved hound, Huan, and the horses who came willingly, wild from the plain, to serve him. He had a way about him, an enchantment that drew the wild things close. Perhaps it was because he was, in part, as wild and fey as they were. As free as the birds. What an honour, to be taken by just such a hunter.

Every so often, Celegorm would catch him watching, and he would smile broadly and nod as if in acknowledgement – at ease. At those times, Curufin would excuse himself from company and retreat to his own room to ease himself to thoughts of having Celegorm beneath him, spread out and mastered.

By midweek, he knew he would have no such difficulty making good on his words. Indeed, by the time the week was nearly over, and Celegorm had not so much as glanced at another elf, he began to hope for it, and he willed Celegorm not to bed anyone. He willed it because in his secret heart, he wanted Celegorm for himself.

The appointed time came due, and Curufin prepared himself carefully, taking the time to bathe in sweet oils, and even to arrange his hair into the braids Celegorm like to see him wear, thinking it would add to his authority. He put on a simple silver circlet that contrasted well with his ebony locks, and wore his best clothing, brushing the velvet so that it was exquisitely soft to the touch.

The sun had sunk below the western horizon as he made his way to his brother's room in the dark. A faint light spilled from beneath the door, which meant his brother had not avoided him by sleeping in the open, as he sometimes still did. Huan was still out hunting, and might be missing for weeks. Curufin smiled, and reached for the door handle, turning it to slip stealthily into the room.

Glancing around in the flickering candlelight, he could see no sign of Celegorm, and yet the candle was still tall, recently lit. The bed was empty, and the chair. Curufin's bare feet padded over the thick rug that covered most of the cold stone floor, thinking that perhaps his brother would be at the window. He just had time to notice the alcove there was empty too before he felt the warmth of a body at his back, and the cool, sharp threat of a dagger at his throat.

“So easy,” marked Celegorm, amused. Curufin was frozen still, his heart beating so loudly he wondered if his brother could hear it. He heard Celegorm draw in a deep breath, the hand that wasn't holding the dagger creeping around to press tightly against his abdomen, making him aware of the hard body behind him. “Mmm...” Celegorm voiced his appreciation. “It is a perfect sacrifice that prepares itself.”

Recovering somewhat from the initial shock, Curufin scowled. “Take your blade away from my neck, you idiot,” he whispered harshly, meaning to move forward and force the issue: Celegorm would release him or kill him – but then he felt his brother's lips on his ear, skimming upwards lightly to the tip, and he almost staggered at the surge of lust that raced through his veins.

“Oh, I agree,” Celegorm said, his voice low. “We should get more comfortable than this. Put your hands behind your back,” he advised.

Curufin hesitated, earning himself a nibble to the tip of his ear that made him cry out, and he moved his arms hurriedly, only then realising something that he had missed before.

“Are you naked?” he blurted out, disconcerted, and Celegorm laughed as he slipped a noose knot around Curufin's wrists with his free hand, tightening the loop savagely before lowering the knife. Without saying a word, he dragged upon the makeshift lead to take Curufin to the bed, where he was secured, his arms twisted up behind him while the length of rope was anchored to the carved bed head.

Curufin found himself in a half-seated position on the bed, fully clothed, almost completely helpless. His brother was naked, and though he'd seen Celegorm naked before, his thoughts of the past week returned to him in full force, and he felt his flesh stir in excitement. A need and a wish that would not be fulfilled now that Celegorm had neutralised him. He sighed petulantly.

“All right,” he said, sullen. “You win. I will not trouble you again tonight. Let me loose.”

To his surprise, Celegorm only settled on the side of the bed, making it dip slightly in his favour, his eyes raking up and down Curufin's body, dagger still in his hand, glinting wickedly sharp in the candlelight.

“Oh, I think not, _canye vaniënya_. You promised to satisfy me. Or did you forget that?”

He watched as Celegorm reached out, grasping his finery and cutting through it with the dagger. His words suddenly hit home, and Curufin understood what his brother intended, struggling so that he hissed in pain as he flexed his arms.

“I do not consent!” he cried out. To his surprise, Celegorm sat back, regarding him thoughtfully.

“Oh, come now. It is unlike you to be such a bad loser between us.” He smiled slightly. “First you tease me, then you haunt my footsteps all week.” He gestured with the knife. “You wrap yourself up like a gift, only to refuse now when I won fair and square. Have a heart, brother dear.”

Curufin flushed. He had done that, hadn't he? “But I –”

His protest was cut off by Celegorm's kiss, and there was no hesitation or reluctance in him now. Dimly, through the pleasure, Curufin realised that the prior reluctance on Celegorm's part had not been fear. Rather, he had been protecting Curufin from this, because if they embarked on this course, there was no turning back. And instead of paying attention to that, like an idiot he'd flaunted himself in Celegorm's face. He also noted that his brother was a wonderful kisser, just the right amount of tongue and pressure, that same taste he had known before. Curufin kissed him back, wishing his arms were free so he could pull his brother close. So warm, so wicked, his hands on Curufin's face, tickling fingertips.

The kiss broke, leaving them both slightly breathless. As if sensing he had the advantage, Celegorm brushed his lips over Curufin's jaw, then drew back. “We can always try it your way in the morning,” he suggested casually, as if it mattered little to him one way or the other.

Curufin looked down, seeing his body stirred to hardness. His clothes were already ruined. Mentally, he shrugged. “Very well, then,” he said, smiling at Celegorm's delighted look. “But do untie me,” he whined. “You know how much I hate to be defenceless.”

“Oh!” Celegorm laughed. “And give you a chance to begin the fight anew? I know your wiles, Curufin.” He shook his head. “I think not.”

He sighed as Celegorm cut away the rest of his clothing, almost sulking. He had the idea of kicking out with his legs, but suspected his brother would only restrain him further, so did not act upon it. Besides, as his skin was uncovered, Celegorm was pausing to explore and touch him, and he did not want that to stop.

It was like the promise of all those times Celegorm had braided his hair, come to fruition. Those hands upon him, touching him everywhere. It made him burn, in truth. He moaned out loud when Celegorm toyed with his nipples, twisting them between finger and thumb, this way and that, experimenting to see what made him moan the loudest.

He shivered in lust when those careful fingers swept over sensitive skin; the underside of his arms, his ribs. Celegorm knew all the places on him that tickled, and yet now they made him flush hot with desire. It was the intent of the touch that made it so. When Celegorm teased the skin just below his stomach, he did not laugh, but whimpered, his cock so hard he thought he must explode.

When the soft leggings he wore were cut away, he begged.

“Touch me...”

Celegorm sucked an index finger into his mouth, then used the wetted digit to drag a slow path up the ridge of Curufin's cock, making him writhe in a frenzy of need, lifting his hips to get more sensation.

“ _Hánonya_... please!”

As if in response, Celegorm’s hand suddenly cupped his balls, making him hiss and almost wrench his shoulders out of their sockets at the sense of helplessness it roused in him.

Quickly, that intimate touch was over, and Celegorm stroked the inside of his thighs with the back of his fingernails, so softly, looking deep into his eyes. Curufin tried to resist, but it was impossible, and he heard himself give a deep wanton moan as he spread his legs wide.

“See how well you behave,” Celegorm murmured, and Curufin glared at him, though he could not help the reactions of his body. His body only wanted more of the strange petting. It opened itself to Celegorm almost like a flower’s petals.

He steeled himself when Celegorm reached for oil, but his brother was as slow, careful and thorough with this as he was when braiding his hair.

Curufin moaned despite himself, the pleasure awakened by his brother’s fingers was sharp and exquisite. “I am not one of your pets,” he griped. He looked at Celegorm’s eyes, but his brother was busy watching his fingers slide easily in and out of Curufin’s body. He jiggled, to draw Celegorm’s attention to his neglected cock, but Celegorm did not stop.

“You are not,” Celegorm said, distracted. “I do not prepare to fuck them.”

He followed those ominous words by withdrawing his fingers, applying oil to himself. Curufin watched, breathless, seeing his brother hard and aroused. He crawled over Curufin’s bound and helpless form, getting his forearms under Curufin’s legs. He guided himself to breach Curufin, only to hesitate briefly on the verge of it. He looked up into Curufin’s eyes.

“Oh, _moina háno_ ,” he said. “You have no idea at all how long I’ve dreamed of this…” And then he was inside, while Curufin gasped in a mixture of shock, pain and bewilderment. He’d dreamed of it?

Suddenly all those innocent touches between them were anything but that. All the times Celegorm had braided his hair, the lazy days when they’d filled their time with wrestling and swimming and camping in the wilder places of Aman. All that time?

Because of the way he was restrained, and the way Celegorm was holding him, Curufin felt utterly dominated. His passage burned despite the preparation, and he felt overwhelmed by Celegorm in a way he would never have predicted.

“Your body feels as good as I imagined. So sweet. Oh, squeeze me, yes, just like that!” His words heralded more forceful movement, rough and hard, but Curufin could take it. He was no weakling. He grunted and let his thoughts go, bearing down as the pain turned to pleasure, groaning in abandon.

“I didn’t want you to make do with the Sindar. Not really. I wanted you all to myself!” Celegorm lifted his chin and kissed him deeply, until Curufin turned his face away.

“ _Ai_ , Valar!” he cried out, as Celegorm bit his neck. “Will you wrap your hand around me or something? I need more!”

Then he felt the heat of his brother’s palm, and his long fingers, so perfect. Their bodies bumped together hard. Celegorm was so deep now, and Curufin felt his body stretch, as if he yielded himself up as Celegorm growled in pleasure.

Curufin could feel the coiled spiral of his climax, making his body tighten and his belly twitch. He was hot and crowded. One more. Two. Again.

“Curufin!” Celegorm moaned, sounding quite vulnerable, seeing as he wasn’t the one tied up. All of Curufin’s muscles seemed to tense at once.

“Give it to me,” Curufin demanded, breathless. “Don’t you stop!”

But then he was there, and he could no longer pay attention to what Celegorm was doing, he could only ride the waves that crashed out of him, giving something deep that left him empty. Emptier still when Celegorm withdrew from him, his hard cock gone soft after release. He could feel Celegorm’s issue trickling from his body.

“Untie me,” he demanded, barely able to raise his voice above a whisper. Celegorm did so, and they rested together, wrapped around each other like lovers, like brothers. They were both of those things now, for better or worse, and Curufin did not regret.

 

To be continued...

 

**Translations (Quenya):**

_moina háno_ – dear brother

_canye vaniënya_ – my bold beauty

_Hánonya_ – my brother

 

**Author's Note:** Thank you for reading – I hope you're enjoying it. Please leave a comment – I will respond.


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

In the morning, Curufin awoke before his brother, and for a moment he had to remember where he was, and what had happened the night before. Celegorm's arm was draped over his waist from behind. So it had not been a dream, then? His face hidden, he smiled.

He relaxed for a minute or two, enjoying the warm closeness of Celegorm's naked skin against his back – it felt better than it really should, but then Curufin found he did not care if what they had done was forbidden. The memory of his brother's hands on him was perfect.

At last he moved slightly, deciding to turn around so that he could see his brother's face, and Celegorm's arm tightened around him as he woke. “Where do you think you are going?”

“Nowhere,” Curufin said, turning around properly, finding himself staring into those familiar eyes. “Am I a prisoner now?” he taunted. “Besides, why would I want to be anywhere else?” he queried. “I have a promise...”

With a smirk, he turned his brother beneath him, fully intending to get some payback for the night before, and Celegorm did not protest, merely sighed, his eyes still soft with sleep and dreams as he stretched his delicious body beneath Curufin.

“By all means,” he said, his fingertips stroking lightly up Curufin's back in a kind of welcome. “Let us see what you are capable of, and what you intended before I bested you.”

All right, so Celegorm was mocking him slightly, but that was only because he had cheated. In an even fight, Curufin came out on top more than half of the time. “Be careful,” he warned. “Do not push me too far.” His only answer to that was Celegorm's fair laughter.

“Oh, what would you do if did push you?” he managed. “Leave me alone?”

Curufin scowled. “I could gag you,” he muttered deliberately, then set to putting his brother beyond words, before he could become too annoyed to lose the thread of his desire. He knew his brother's body so well, almost every part of it, and yet it was somehow new to touch him like this – with intent.

He met with some success, since Celegorm quieted under his caresses, allowing him everything he wished, letting him explore, from the ticklish palms of his hands to his toes. Oh, it felt so right! Beneath his hands his brother was exposed, welcoming and warm, and in his head was the memory of their long lives. Not just here, but in Aman, where they had been close since Curufin was born. Perhaps he had been blind, but it seemed to him now he had wanted this for most of his life, once he had become old enough to understand it. He'd just never realised it.

There was such a sudden sense of exhilaration in him. Here they were, together, and the years stretched out in front of them to eternity. He looked up and smiled, seeing an answering joy in his brother. Carefully, Curufin moved his hand down, breaking their gaze. He'd seen Celegorm's cock, but touched like this? Never. He enclosed it within his hand, squeezing the way he liked, rewarded by Celegorm's sudden moan of lust.

Curufin didn't take too much time with the oil, only enough to make sure he would not hurt and to feel the satin softness inside. His brother was so wild and fey beneath him, like one of his creatures. Consign this beauty to the Sindarin? Curufin suddenly thought it would be wasted on them. How could they appreciate those eyes that had known the mysterious silver light of Telperin? Sometimes he thought he could see that light in Celegorm's gaze. There was something bewitching about him.

Much as he would love to stretch it out, Curufin's morning erection was demanding he do something, and quickly. He guided himself slowly, pressing hard, sinking into the wonderful heat. He caught his breath, shivering as he thrust forward, needing more. Needing it all. Celegorm hissed, then released his breath on the lightest of moans.

“Curvo,” he gasped. “Yes. Oh, yes. At last.”

Celegorm's acceptance only seemed to make him hotter, and Curufin gave him a few light thrusts, almost enraptured by the sensation. “You feel so good,” he managed, “Celeg –”

What happened next was so fast Curufin could not even think to muster any kind of resistance. With a growl, Celegorm turned them over. The way they were joined meant the movement nudged Curufin painfully, and he cried out as Celegorm came to rest sat atop him, the angle too much, too sharp.

“Have a care!” he cried, easing his body hurriedly down the bed to accommodate the new position, relieved when the pain disappeared, melting back into pure pleasure. He looked up, and Celegorm's eyes were stormy and incensed. “What?!” he demanded, wondering why his brother had done such a thing.

“Do not call me by that Sindarin abomination. Not you. Not ever. Do you understand me?” Celegorm hissed the words, his body tight and his nails digging into Curufin's arms where he held them down to the bed.

“Tyelkormo,” Curufin breathed the name like an epithet, then: “Valar! Is that what upset you?” he spat out, furious. “You hurt me!”

His brother's dark look did not lessen, nor did he relinquish his grip, and Curufin thrust upward on purpose, not really to throw him off, but to make him give. Slowly, he felt Celegorm's passage relax a little, then a lot, and then Celegorm moved on his cock, continuing as if nothing had happened.

“You made me angry,” he said, without apology. “You know better. Don't do it.”

Curufin could not take the time to respond to the words. The way Celegorm moved on him had restored his flagging erection. It felt so good! “Oh, _hánonya_... Turco... fuck...”

Celegorm released his arms, and Curufin reached forward, sitting up a little as his brother's lithe body bounced up and down on him. He didn't miss the dark red and blue little semi-circles on his arms where Celegorm's fingernails had dug in, but cared little. It was rare that he, Curufin, managed to rouse his brother's quick temper.

A warm palm was pressed to his chest. “Lie down, _pia háno_ ,” Celegorm said, a note of menace in his tone, and Curufin could only obey. Celegorm leaned back on his other hand, lifting himself and sinking back down while Curufin moaned and shivered. From his reclined position, he dragged his fingers along Celegorm's thighs, earning a pleased growl in response that made him grin. He moved in concert with his brother, thrusting up until he felt something in him gather like a spring.

He bit his lip, snarling as he felt it let go, spilling into Celegorm's body as deep shudders wracked him. Only when he was finished did he realise Celegorm had stopped moving, letting him deep. They looked at each other for a moment that stretched out, then Celegorm put a hand around his own cock, clambering off to flop onto the bed beside him, already working at his own release.

“Wait,” Curufin said, laying a hand over his. Celegorm gave him a curious look, but laid back as Curufin licked his lips and moved down the bed.

This, sucking Celegorm's cock, seemed even more forbidden than the intercourse between them, yet he gave it his all. Curufin was no stranger to sex, and he'd enjoyed quite a few ellons in his time, so he knew his skill.

At the first tremulous moan, he paused to smile open-mouthed around his brother's thick length. Strange that he should feel dominant now, doing this, the way he hadn't when he fucked his brother. Celegorm had taken all the control from him then, but he would not do so now. Forcing the issue would mean that Curufin stopped.

He bobbed his head quickly, not teasing, using all of his experience to get Celegorm there quickly. He wanted to taste. Celegorm was moving fretfully beneath his mouth, his hips lifting in jerky little movements.

“ _Moina háno_ ,” he gasped, and Curufin flicked his eyes upwards, seeing Celegorm laid back against the pillows with one forearm thrown across his face. His lips were twisted in pleasure, trembling. Curufin made a sound in his throat and pressed right down, holding his breath pulling Celegorm's cock into the snug sleeve of his throat a few times. He heard Celegorm moan again, and then his end was upon him, hot and wet in his throat as he pulled back to catch some of it on his tongue, suckling the last of it out of him, greedy for more.

When he had swallowed it all down, having run his tongue around his mouth to taste all he could, Curufin moved back up the bed and snuggled into his brother's welcoming embrace.

“You always were my treasure,” he whispered, stunned, fingers combing through Curufin's hair. Curufin smiled, feeling utterly smug. Celegorm had said that before, though Curufin suspected he'd never meant it as much as he did now.

“And you, mine. We have forever now.” It was strange, to be like this. They'd always been close, tactile with each other, shared everything, but now it felt different. Warm along with the familiarity.

“Don't we just? Our own land, and we have each other. Oh, I think your ambition to 'satisfy' me will work very well indeed.”

Curufin rolled his eyes, but didn't bother to answer the comment. He was much too comfortable.

Of course there was the matter of the Oath, and the Silmarils. And Morgoth. But those things seemed quite distant. Maybe they would see about the jewels in a few centuries. When they'd finished celebrating each other. As long as they held the pass, it wasn't as if anyone else was going to bother them.

Except that others did bother them. From that first morning, he and Celegorm drew the looks of the Sindar who had agreed to reside with them as servants and ostlers, as warriors, laughable as that was. Curufin even saw Celegorm lose his temper with one or two of them, beating one young ellon so badly he needed a week to recover. Though they drew closer, the rest of the population drew away from them.

Curufin would have let it pass, but if it continued their Sindar cousins would desert them, and news of their poor treatment would spread, if it hadn't already. Curufin was sure Celegorm was getting quite the reputation as a cruel master, though the gossips were quite right about one thing: Celegorm had more time for animals than Sindar.

At last he hit upon an answer. The lingering looks and strange behaviour they were subject to was due to the Sindar perceiving their changed relationship. They had made no announcement, and they were even careful not to be observed, for the sake of keeping their retinue and compliment of fighters. But there must be something in how they were with each other. Tongues were wagging. The answer, such as it was, seemed quite obvious once he thought of it.

“I think I will take a wife,” Curufin declared casually, one rare day when they were sat around together in Celegorm's room, Celegorm picking at the leather of his long boots as if any moment he would get up to go hunting.

Curufin had anticipated any number of reactions to his announcement, which was why he had a dagger hidden in his boot. Celegorm's laughter startled him more than being set upon. He glared, and that just seemed to amuse his brother all the more.

“What? Were you expecting an objection? It's an excellent idea, and you should definitely be the one to do it, Curvo. Pick an elleth, just make sure you bathe... after,” he said, grimacing, “before you come back to me.”

“You had this idea too,” he said, realising it.

“I was wondering when you'd catch up.” Celegorm suddenly turned and rooted about on his desk for a moment. “Carnistir sent us a letter,” he said, tossing the missive to Curufin to read. “He wants us to visit with him. A hunting trip, or so he says.” Celegorm gave him a smile that did not reach his eyes. “He also seems quite curious about us and if we're 'getting along' together. If we bring news of your intended, it will ease his mind, no doubt.”

So the gossip had already spread outside of their lands? Curufin was not comforted. “Fine,” he said, in poor humour. “I will pick the most beautiful of them. Any of them would be honoured, the way they fawn ab–”

“Good!” Celegorm spoke over him, standing up and gesturing to Huan, who obligingly trotted to his master's side. “Be sure to get her with child as soon as you can.”

He paused to lean over Curufin where he sat, curling a hand behind his neck and giving him a lingering kiss.

“There can be no argument then,” he pointed out. Then he was gone with Huan, leaving Curufin staring at the closed door, with the letter in his hand and a job to do. Choose a wife.

 

To be continued...

 

**Author's Note:** Thank you for reading – I hope you're enjoying it. :)

 

**Translations (Quenya):**

_moina háno_ – dear brother

_pia háno_ – little brother

_Hánonya_ – my brother


	4. Chapter Four

** Author’s Note:  ** Hello, everyone! Another chapter, and since it’s christmas, see how many of the things from the ‘Twelve Days of Christmas’ you can spot in the following chapter. Have fun! And I hope you enjoy...

 

**Chapter Four**

It did not take Curufin long to choose a wife. The most beautiful of them all was Limeithel, and it was to her he paid his address. Her joy and that of her family was effervescent, almost sickly, and once agreement had been reached, Curufin escaped to the forge he had built.

It had been unthinkable to build a dwelling without the sanctuary of a place for metalworking, and though a large part of it was used to create those things necessary for weaponry and horse tack, there was a sizeable portion set aside for Curufin and his more refined projects.

Of all his brothers, it was he who had inherited his father's love of the smithy, of making things bend to his will and creating almost impossibly yielding shapes in gold and silver, adorning these with jewels. Curufin adored making jewellery, and he laboured hard, ostensibly on the wedding bands he and Limeithel would wear, yet in secret, he worked on something else.

Though he had made the oath with all of his brothers, Curufin believed that only he alone could truly understand his father's deep desire to regain and possess the Silmarils, and even his rejection of the Valar's wish to use them to restore Laurelin and Telperin. There was, after all, no guarantee he could ever repeat the making of those great jewels. They were the pinnacle of what was possible and could not – must not! – be unmade. This world would never see their like again, now that the two trees were gone. What were the sun and moon but pale reflections of their light? Even if you could catch their radiance, it was a mere echo. The Silmarils, they were more than the sun and the moon, more than the trees themselves. They were everything. The meaning and the light, intertwined. There was no question at all – they must be recovered.

The metalwork he did was not difficult. Five golden rings he made, simple enough for any novice, except for the way they fitted together. The first was for Limeithel, a plain gold band, strengthened with warm copper, made for the measurement of her ring finger. It was the least important and required the smallest amount of effort. He tossed it aside carelessly when he was done. The other four were for him and Celegorm.

Curufin took his time, wanting them to be perfect and seamless. He measured his brother's finger while he slept, taking his notes of numbers in the moonlight, caught for a long moment by the sheer beauty of Celegorm's elegant hands.

Night after night he fell into Celegorm's embrace, his face still hot from the forge, his clothes and skin tainted by the scent of burning coal and molten metal. Curufin did not accept the help offered to him. He alone fed the fire, worked the bellows, selected the gold. It's purity was unequalled, and for two of the four remaining rings, he added enough silver to make it durable, leaving them with a slight green colour in the light. The other two were pure gold, soft and malleable, and would hardly withstand much wearing alone.

The jewels were important, and Curufin kept this part the most secret of all, since he had some idea of the making of the Silmarils, knowledge best kept hidden. And though it was an echo only, Curufin employed that knowledge as he attempted to capture the light of the sun, selecting two small pale green jewels of beryl.

The sun gave only light, and so it was a difficult task, but from the green of the leaves of the trees that thrived in it, in moss and many other green things, Curufin decocted a kind of tincture with which he painted the gems over and over, setting them in the light of the sun in the hope they would capture a single fraction of a ray of it.

Eventually, when he had convinced himself he could see a spark of sunlight dancing in the depth of the stones, he put them to use, setting one each in the two largest green gold bands. The other two rings he etched upon in Quenya, working laboriously so they would be perfect. The gold was so pliant it was a difficult task, yet he persevered, using all of his skill and knowledge to complete it. He engraved his and Celegorm's promises onto them – he knew Celegorm's without the need to ask, since he whispered them often enough – and when at last he was done, he called Celegorm to come and see.

He watched his brother handling the ring he had made in the flickering light of the forge fire, the fine Quenya script running all the way around the band, and a shadow passed over Celegorm’s fair face.

“You mean these words?” he demanded, intense, fingers tracing over the script as if he could not believe in what he held. Curufin placed a hand over his and looked into his eyes.

“ _Ninyava. Véranya onóro, mirwanya melindo_.” He smiled. “Yes I mean them. _Órënya o fëa níra melmë tennoio a hroanya mailë oira, ninya verca Turcafinwë. Tenna manarngwe_.”

Still the darkness did not pass. “ _Ninyava… véranya… mirwanya…_ ” Celegorm repeated, troubled, and now Curufin felt it too. “Whatever I foresee it is not us,” he said in answer to Curufin’s frown. “It is just… _Ú_ _maia_.” He shook his head.

Without saying anything further, he suddenly pulled Curufin into his arms, and they stood there together for a long moment in the secret darkness of the smithy. How could either of them repent of the Oath, when it gave them this? Curufin did not fool himself. Their lives in Valinor had been long and ageless. Unchanging as a still pool of water. Had their father never made the Silmarils, had there been no disturbance, they would still be there. Celegorm would still be hunting with Oromë, Huan by his side, and Curufin would forever be the apprentice to his father. They would have loved, as brothers should, but would not have ventured into this forbidden lust. Never.

The events that led up to their swearing the Oath and journeying across the sea to Eregion were the catalyst. There was a sense of vibrant life about it all; every situation was suddenly changeable, sharp and intense. Terms were no longer set, and every single thing was negotiable except for one: loss. It made every moment of bliss and agony more poignant and precious. A drop of their lives now outshone a millennia in Valinor, and the world they inhabited here was vast.

“They are beautiful, _moina háno_ , but will people not see?” asked Celegorm at last, breaking Curufin out of his thoughts.

Smiling, Curufin showed off his ingenuity, handing Celegorm the gold ring with the beryl stone, and showing how he had moulded the metal so that the smaller pure gold ring could sit snugly inside. Their words and vows would be forever hidden, but they would be there. Still, Celegorm frowned.

“But will it go with the rest of my jewellery?” he pondered then, fingering the bits of polished orc bone and animal teeth that he wore around his neck as some kind of garish necklace, a reminder of his battles.

Curufin scowled. “That is not jewellery,” he said, insulted. “It's macabre.”

Suddenly he felt dissatisfied, and worse – ridiculed. He snatched the ring back, angry that Celegorm obviously didn't appreciate his talent. “I shouldn't have bothered!” he snapped, resentful. “I only thought that –” He brought himself up short and turned away.

“Only thought that... what?” Celegorm asked, amused, close behind him, arms reaching around him. Curufin shook his head. Celegorm's lips were on the back of his neck, one hand rising to sweep the length of his hair out of the way. “I am not ungrateful,” Celegorm assured him. “I could show you how grateful I am here. Now.” He paused. “We are alone.”

They were alone, and Curufin's blood burned as hot as the forge fire. He turned in Celegorm's embrace. “You will take everything I give you,” he said, roughly pushing Celegorm back against his work table. The sudden devious look on his brother's face made him realise Celegorm had been teasing, and he shook his head.

“Of course I will take everything,” Celegorm said, and the way he said it... this thing between them was so perfect it threw everything else into shade. If others could but see, yet they never would. Curufin laughed.

They had each other on his work table, as silently as they could, the door left dangerously unlatched. It made their lovemaking urgent and quick, perilous. Curufin thought they burned as bright as a Silmaril, and when Celegorm left, he wore the ring on his finger, Curfin's etched promises hidden eternally inside.

~~~~~~~~~

Though the marriage would take place after their visit to Caranthir, the elleth's family called a great celebration, and at least in this, Curufin had to admit the Sindar came into their own. A great fire was built on the open land, a stage set for musicians, and coloured banners were draped everywhere. Special delicacies were brought from far and wide for the feast. Strong wines imported from who knew where to make the tongue loose and old animosities fade away.

Curufin found he was not unhappy with the arrangement at all, for Limeithel was beautiful, and Curufin did not have the same strong preference as his brother. He found himself looking at her often, and looked forward to their wedding night. Perhaps he wasn't as earnest in his heart as some bridegrooms, but his body was more than willing. His brother... where was he? Standing up, Curufin realised Celegorm had escaped the festivities and decided at once to find him. What a wonderful opportunity to be together, while the rest of the Noldor and Sindar were celebrating.

The band struck up as he stood there, deliberating, and that decided him. As the tattoo of the drums brought couples together for dancing, he weaved his way through the crowd, almost unnoticed. A reel of some kind was played on slender little pipes, and the elves arranged themselves into practised formations. The male elves were leaping around like deer while the ladies danced. Curufin pulled a face, almost scowling. He had no intention of being dragged into _that_ ridiculousness, no matter how much of the wine he consumed.

Taking a flagon of mead from a nearby trestle table, he slipped away into the dusk beyond the fire and the lights.

What might be termed a smallish town had sprung up around the substantial dwelling he occupied with his brother, and Curufin found himself hard pressed in his near drunkenness to navigate the little wooden huts. Some of them had livestock tethered onto grazing land; one thing this open plain was good for. A hog grunted at him when he walked near its fence, and a gaggle of chickens clucked loudly as he tapped on their hen house as he passed by. Wild migratory geese – half domesticated by the promise of tender grass and corn – were in a much larger enclosure, settled on nests they had built on the flat ground.

Looking around him, Curufin was impressed. He had been too carried away to notice much of this, but there was very definitely a settlement here. As he looked out into the twilight he could see some of the land had already been tilled, ready for the first sowing. The last rays of sunlight shone upon the scene, the revelry sounding distant and far away now. He waited until the sun was gone, then turned, walking onward in the dark, and almost collided with a young elleth carrying pails.

“Oh! Excuse me, Sir,” she said, then her eyes widened in the dark and she bobbed in a quick curtsey. “I mean, Lord Curufin.” She was achingly young, and very pretty. Curufin was almost tempted.

“Are you not attending the feast?” he asked, and she smiled.

“But of course!” she said. It occurred to Curufin that the Sindar were keeping dairy cows, if the contents of the pails were to be believed. But then, why not? It made sense, and so did the lateness of the task. The milking must be done on time in the evening, and it was not yet far enough into Spring for the light to remain.

Just as he reached out a hand to touch her face, her companions came bustling along, carrying her with them out of his reach, with a few respectful acknowledgements. Curufin sighed. But then there was only one lover he really wished to have now, at this moment. He hurried onwards.

“You are late,” Celegorm said without looking up from the book he was reading. Huan was snoring on a bed beneath the window, and Celegorm was lounging on his bed, his boots kicked off and resting on the floor.

“I was distracted,” Curufin said with a smile, advancing. He unbuttoned his tunic as he took tiny steps.

“Was she worth it?” Celegorm enquired, letting the book go easily when Curufin took it from his hands. He looked up as Curufin clambered onto the bed – onto him – knees at either side of Celegorm's hips. He felt his brother's fingers on his waist, stroking tenderly at his skin.

“Not at all,” he said, and leaned down to claim his brother's lips in a kiss. They rolled around on the bed, and still Curufin came out on top. Celegorm laughed softly, his fair face smooth and flawless in the moonlight that spilled through the window.

“Huan!” he called sharply. “ _Etsë!_ ” The hound of Valinor snuffled and perked his ears, then obediently trotted to the door that Curufin had left ajar, nosing it open to find his rest outside. It did not matter. There were none to disturb them. All attended the feasting, which meant they had hours.

“Go on then,” said Celegorm with pleasure. “You can go first, _pia háno_.”

Curufin reached down and pulled Celegorm's tunic apart, prompting a roll of eyes and a sigh. “Always with the buttons!” he said darkly. “You'd better make it count.”

Looking down, he could see the challenge in Celegorm's eyes, and he suddenly grinned, dipping his head for a biting, harsh kiss. Their hands and pulses raced, hungry for sensation, but there was something else that drove this frenzied participation.

Change.

They had changed, just like their relationship. Like everything had changed. Before their journey, before the Simarils, their lives had been unending and maddeningly serene. Had their father never succeeded in creating the great jewels, perhaps... Curufin could not keep the train of his thoughts, with the taste of Celegorm on his lips, warm flawless skin stretched over hard muscle beneath his tongue.

Biting deliberately, he drew a succession of pained grunts from Celegorm, before heading downwards, but before he could reach his prize, his hair was pulled sharply.

“ _Orro!_ ” he complained, reaching back with his hands, trying to loosen Celegorm's grip.

“Oh, if you think I'm letting you go there with your teeth, you're much mistaken,” he said, then his eyes darkened. “Besides, I'd much rather you take me.”

That was a suggestion Curufin had no problem with, and he looked to the bedside table, already reaching out for the oil. Celegorm caught his hand, staring at him in that intense way.

“I have done it already,” he said, then snickered at Curufin's look of surprise. “Did you think I came here for time alone?” he mocked. “Don't you know already... I was waiting for you?”

If he hadn't been so hungry for Celegorm's body, Curufin thought the tide of emotion those words inspired would have drowned him. Instead, he guided himself while Celegorm raised his knees, then pressed home with a sudden sharp movement that made his brother moan.

Being inside him was quite simply the most erotic thing Curufin had ever known, and he'd had plenty of lovers. Somehow this thing between them was different. In some ways it was almost an extension of their closeness. The feeling of Celegorm's body yielding to him was amazing, and yet he was still tight, and as Curufin moved, he could feel the muscle dragging his skin back and forth. Being inside his brother was paradise.

Celegorm reached down to handle his own cock, and Curufin slapped his hands away. “No,” he said, his breathing strained as sweat broke out on his brow. “I want you after. We don't have to be quiet. They wouldn't notice now if we were screaming at each other.”

It really was important to him. Every time they were together they had to be quiet, and Curufin longed for this, for being free and vocal if he wanted. He moaned on purpose, leaning over Celegorm's body and getting deeper, feeling those arms around him.

“Curvo!” cried Celegorm, obviously on purpose. “Fuck me, _háno_. _Nirt_ _orna, lintië,_ _nai_ _mailëa_ _!_ ”

Every word drove him on, called out loudly into the night without apology, and his own answering cries made him find his end much too soon. It felt too good to be free to love, to be free to fuck. Curufin let it all go, until he was resting on Celergorm, face pressed into his brother's neck. He felt empty, as if he'd given all of himself. But he hadn't, and before he was truly recovered he felt Celegorm's oil covered fingers seeking entry inside him. Curufin was so relaxed it was almost easy.

“Very good, _pia háno_. Now, you know how I like it best, don't you?” Celegorm said. He did, and he got onto his knees obediently, with Celegorm pressed up close behind him. With a low groan, he collapsed onto the eiderdown as his brother entered him, holding his hips while Curufin let his upper body drop.

“Even better,” Celegorm noted wickedly, then began a fast pace that stoked the sensation to such a level Curufin almost did scream. He could feel the heat of Celegorm skimming against those tender walls inside him, so fast he could not contain his moans. It felt like too much after his own climax, too exquisite, and his body could not respond, but he loved it.

“Turco,” he moaned, “have mercy.” The pace did not slow; Celegorm always did know what he really wanted. Yet he didn't waste time, and his movements eventually slowed into violent, deep thrusts that forewarned of his climax. Curufin sighed as Celegorm's weight pressed him down deep into the softness of the bed. Celegorm's hand covered his on the pillow by the side of his face, their matching rings sparkling in the lamplight.

“ _Sina_. _Met_...” he said, faltering, put beyond words. “ _Oialëa_.”

The hand on his clasped tightly in response. “I know. I will always be with you, little brother.”

All too soon their time was over again, and they separated with regret. The world seemed always to be pulling them apart, and just like him, Curufin knew Celegorm was counting the hours and the minutes until they could be alone once more.

Over the following weeks Celegorm mellowed, clearly making an effort to rein in his unruly temper with the servants. The household relaxed, and Curufin was glad of it, since he suspected there were less rumours being circulated about Celegorm's harsh treatment now. Perhaps it would save him from arguing with Caranthir.

They journeyed to visit their brother with a small retinue, since they could not insist on travelling alone, not as Lords, and it was enough to put an end to all thought of them laying together at night, out in the wild. They looked to each other often, until they hit on a solution – at least during the day.

Soon after breakfast, Celegorm would announce his attention to scout ahead and hunt for the evening meal, whereupon Curufin would offer to accompany him. Though it was contrived and obvious, those they travelled with did not say anything, since Celegorm always did bring meat back. And so they found themselves often an hour or two in advance of the main company, stealing time, leaping from their horses to have each other in the grass, out in the open, with Huan ready to alert them if others were near. After which they would both hunt, Celegorm with much greater success. Sometimes, it was as if animals volunteered for his blade or his arrows.

So it was that one day, Curufin found himself passing the same duck pond as he had around ten times before, eyeing up the swans and wondering how they would taste, since he'd had no luck finding deer or pheasant, which should be plentiful around here.

A group of blackbirds were following him around, fluttering from twig to twig, their song almost a giggle. At one point he came upon two doves and he determined to have them, after all even pigeon was better than nothing, until the blackbirds set up such a ruckus they frightened them away.

He sighed and kicked at the ground, only to see Celegorm come striding from the sparse woodland with a few wild rabbits and game birds strung over his shoulders. There were quail, pheasants, and even Huan carried a couple of grouse in his mouth, trotting in step beside his master. Curufin shook his head, then peered suspiciously at one of the birds.

“A partridge,” Celegorm said, noting his look. “I found it in a tree, waiting for me, its mouth full of leaves.”

Curufin smiled, and fell into step happily, his frustration with his own hunt completely forgotten. He liked partridge! “Mmm... I am hungry. We should set a fire as soon as we get back to the others,” he suggested innocently. Celegorm stared at him.

“It's still eleven in the morning!” he said, mocking. “Here!” He tossed something in Curufin's direction, and he caught it easily, pulling a face. A pear?!

All the way back Curufin stared longingly at the bird, his mouth watering. For once, it made a change from staring at Celegorm... with his mouth watering.

 

To be continued...

 

**Author's Note:** Thank you for reading – I hope you had fun with my little experiment! And don't worry, Celegorm and Curufin didn't notice a thing ;)

I let Celegorm have a little foresight. It seemed to fit, really.

Note on the translations: There is no Quenya word for  ' mine ' and so I made one up, using the attested word  ' my ' with a possessive ending.  I apologise for that, and for my grammar, which is terrible.

A nd so a ll that remains is to wish all readers of this story a wonderful christmas, and a very happy new year. May you achieve everything you aim for. Xxx

 

**Translations (Quenya):**

_Limeithel (name, sindarin) –_ clear spring

_Ninyava. Véranya onóro, mirwanya melindo. –_ Mine. My own brother, my precious lover.

_Órënya o fëa níra melmë tennoio a hroanya mailë oira, ninya verca Turcafinwë. Tenna manarngwe. –_ My heart and soul will love forever, and my body lust eternal, my wild Turcafinwë. Until our final end.

_Ninyava… véranya… mirwanya… –_ Mine... my own... my precious...

_Úmaia –_ Maia who turned to evil, like the balrogs, or Mairon/Sauron

_moina háno –_ dear brother

_pia háno –_ little brother

_Etsë! –_ Out! 

_Orro! –_ Ow!

_Nirtorna, lintië, nai mailëa! –_ Thrust hard, quickly, be lustful!

_Sina. Met... –_ This. Us...

_Oialëa –_ Forever

 


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

Another dinner hour stretched before them all like infinity. This was the second or third one so far. All Curufin knew was that his brother was entirely off limits while they were here, and it put him in a bad mood for most of the day.

Since they had arrived, Caranthir had not said much of anything to them. Or at least, nothing of any note. They'd shared stories of settling in their new lands, exchanged tips on the building of structures, on farming and such. Secretly, Curufin was bored to tears, during the times when he wasn't fuming about not having Celegorm to lie with. They were both of them kept constantly busy.

Caranthir had made space for them both, at opposite ends of his house. No doubt it was deliberate, and so rumours must have reached him, but he did not mention them at all. He'd been employing some of his own talents, and there were the beginning of great tapestries hung here and there. Ha! As if Caranthir had been doing any of the work of settling. Curufin thought it more than likely his brother had been sat sewing while the rest of the elves did everything else!

As he contemplated his bowl of soup, he scowled. There was the sound of clinking tableware as Celegorm and Caranthir ate their first course. A water clock could be heard, counting out each endless second around the large wooden table. Though the furniture was simple, the finishing touches were not. Curufin shook out his napkin, which was made of a heavy, quality linen, embroidered with the family crest.

“I see you have been making jewellery, Curvo,” Caranthir said at last, pleasantly, as if he were mentioning nothing more important than the weather, and Curufin looked up to see his eye on the gold beryl ring on his finger.

“Of course I have!” he snorted. “It will be my wedding band.” They had shared their news of Curufin's upcoming nuptials almost immediately, and Caranthir had seemed reassured by it, since he hadn't mentioned anything since, except to offer his congratulations.

Both he and Celegorm watched as Caranthir switched his gaze, now staring at the matching ring that Celegorm wore. Silently, Curufin dared him to say something.

“Are you planning to wed too?” asked Caranthir mildly, and Celegorm smirked.

“My dear Carnistir, I do hope you are joking.” He rolled his eyes. “I would as soon keep quarters with a hog.”

Caranthir looked back and forth between the two of them in alarm, apparently having confirmed his suspicion, and the rumours he had no doubt heard. Curufin watched him try to assimilate it as he twisted his napkin anxiously.

“This place,” he said quietly, looking down at his hands. “It will destroy us all. In one way or another. _Ammëngwa_ was right.”

Suddenly, seemingly full of fire, Celegorm got to his feet, his chair scraping loudly on the flagstones. Curufin smiled and settled in for the scene which was to follow, almost swinging his feet below the table as he might have done as an elfling. Even Huan pricked his ears up in the corner, lifting his head from his bed and sniffing the air.

“Many things may try to destroy us,” Celegorm growled, his voice low. “But I do not suppose any of them will be partners with love.”

“Brotherly love?” Caranthir demanded, as he too rose to his feet. “Is _that_ what is going on here?”

“There’s nothing going on here,” Curufin put in with a sarcastic huff. Both of his brothers ignored him.

“While you are in my house, you will keep your distance from each other!” Caranthir did not quite hit the table, but he came close, his eyes burning with fear and anger. “Do you think my placing of you is an accident? You will not lay with each other under my roof!”

Celegorm raised a cool eyebrow. “What are you, my elder? I don’t think so, _pia háno_ …” He twisted his lips in arrogant disdain. “And besides, do you think we only love in the hours of darkness?”

Caranthir’s mouth opened and closed several times, but nothing came out. His skin became mottled with red spots, and Curufin opened his eyes wide, smirking.

“Tomorrow, we will hunt, you and I,” Caranthir managed at last. “We will discuss this then.”

Sensing some kind of victory, Celegorm shook his head. “No. Let’s discuss it now. We are alone here,” he observed, looking around. Curufin looked around too, and it was true all the servants had fled, no doubt to spread gossip.

Caranthir appeared to visibly calm, taking several deep breaths. He straightened up. “Very well. I will not stand for this degenerate, sordid lunacy while you are here. Is that clear enough?” He turned his gaze to Curufin.

“Curvo, you are welcome here whenever you wish, for as long as you want.” Caranthir flashed a look of challenge to Celegorm. “You are welcome,” he said, his meaning unmistakable.

Celegorm laughed strangely. “Oh, you think he is innocent, do you? You think I have somehow convinced and corrupted him into it, and that you can protect him?” Caranthir said nothing, but he pressed his lips together tightly.

“ _He_ …” Celegorm looked to Curufin, “threw himself at me.”

Both of them were looking at him now. Deliberating, Curufin tried to look as innocent as possible. “He begged,” Celegorm continued, while Curufin gasped on purpose and hid his face in his hands as if in shame.

“Do you remember?” Celegorm asked him directly. Curufin chose not to respond. “Oh, _hánonya_... Turco... fuck…” Celegorm’s impression was eerily accurate, and he sneaked a look through his fingers as Caranthir seemed to leap across the table to grab Celegorm and make him stop, bowls of soup flying everywhere, the liquid dripping down onto the floor where a happy Huan trotted over to begin lapping it up.

Curufin’s brothers rolled off the table, their fists seeking to make contact with each other as they gave up discussion in favour of fighting it out. Curufin merely leaned back in his chair and watched them happily. He even took a few spoonfuls of his own soup before he began to laugh out loud. That seemed to cool things considerably, and both of his brothers turned to look at him.

They got up, their clothes ripped and bruises darkening on their skin where they had made contact with each other. They stared at him.

“What?!” Curufin asked, when neither of them spoke. “Don’t blame me. I was just sitting here,” he said, all innocence, “enjoying my dinner.”

Caranthir’s eyes narrowed. “We go hunting tomorrow,” he told Celegorm, calmer now.

Curufin said nothing, waiting for Celegorm to refuse again, except that his brother looked upon him thoughtfully as well. “Yes,” he said at last. “I think we will.”

Suddenly angry at the perceived betrayal, Curufin stood up, dashing what was left of his dish aside to smash on the floor. Huan trotted in his direction hopefully, but was stopped just in time by Celegorm.

“Well, thanks!” he said to Celegorm. “Fuck you too!” He stormed out, amazed that Celegorm seemed to have accepted his brother’s machination to keep them apart during the day.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Curufin hardly slept that night, and in the morning he rose early, having no intention to be beaten to it by his brothers. He stalked away from his brother’s house to the lake, kicking at the ground as he looked up around him at the mountains.

For a while, he considered how much satisfaction he might gain from taking off the ring and casting it into the still blue water, then he turned away and trudged off, following the path of the river for hours. The Gelion was at least fifty miles from Caranthir’s house - he would not get that far, but halfway through the day, Curufin knew he would either have to head back, or sleep rough in the open land. Shrugging, he continued walking.

As the light faded, he found a small rocky shelter and tucked himself into it, making a small fire. He’d managed to keep his resentment burning all day, a few twigs were no problem at all.

In the morning he arose, feeling tired and hungry beyond reason. He wandered to the river and splashed his face. At least he wasn’t completely unprepared. He’d brought his weapons, and he was able to capture a rabbit to eat, cooking it slowly over the fire before breakfasting, and pulling the meat off the rest to eat later.

He made his way onward, until the sun was well past its zenith, and the afternoon was fully upon him. He could just see the curves of the Gelion proper where it wound its way through the land some miles hence when he heard hoofbeats behind him.

Curufin only looked to make sure it wasn’t an enemy, then continued walking in a sulk as the horse drew closer. His lips turned downwards as he walked, almost stamping. The grassland beneath his feet felt insubstantial and hollow. It was riddled with rabbit warrens and fox holes. Badger setts. Here and there were mole hills.

“Do you intend to walk all the way home?” Celegorm asked from atop his horse as he drew up alongside. Curufin didn’t look, instead drawing a breath in through his nose, setting his sight on the distant river. He didn’t slow his steps.

He was aware that Celegorm dismounted, pausing to whisper to the horse, which cantered away to some distance, ready to be called back. Curufin felt a hand on his shoulder, and shook if off, still furious even after a day and a half of walking.

At last, Celegorm stood directly in his path, arms folded. Curufin didn’t even think about it. He drew back his fist and drove it into Celegorm’s stomach as hard as he could. He registered the way Celegorm seemed to crumple up, wheezing, with a grim smile, then went on his way without speaking a word. He should have known that wouldn’t be the end of it.

He turned as he heard his brother coming up behind him, only to meet a fist that connected solidly with his jaw, the force of it so strong it knocked him to the ground.

He lashed out with his legs, taking Celegorm by surprise and bringing him down too. Then they laid into each other fiercely. The fight was savage and Curufin didn’t hold back. Nor did Celegorm, and by the time they were done, Curufin actually felt a little better.

Perching atop his brother’s body, Curufin sighed. Celegorm’s hair was spread around his head in tones of silver and gold. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth where his lip had swelled up, and as he smiled, Curufin could see the bright red of it lining his teeth.

“Loser,” Curufin taunted.

“It is only while we are here,” Celegorm said, more seriously.

Now Curufin hurt again, and he swatted the flat of his hand against Celegorm’s face in a light slap.

“No, it isn’t,” he argued. “It’s everywhere we are. We can’t even be together in our own house!”

He looked down for another long moment. “And you are all I want,” he said, leaning down to kiss, tasting that blood in Celegorm’s mouth. It tasted sweet and metallic as his brother’s arms closed around him, trying to pull him closer.

Curufin lashed out with his tongue, groaning as more of that whisper hot taste flooded his senses. Then he pulled back. “I hate you,” he vowed, and moved away, sitting cross-legged on the grass.

“No, you don’t,” Celegorm answered, not bothering to move, only turn onto his side so that he could fill his eyes with the sight of Curufin.

Rubbing his jaw, Curufin grinned, then he realised he was doing it and scowled again. Celegorm laughed at him, plucking daisies from the grass and flicking them at him. Waving his arms about to ward them off, Curufin sighed heavily.

“Stop that!” he growled.

“We are alone now,” Celegorm remarked in invitation.

“Stolen time. It’s always stolen. You’re mine, and I want to possess you. I want to have you whenever I feel like it, not just when no one is looking.”

“ _Véranya háno_ ,” Celegorm breathed. “An exhibitionist!”

Forgetting himself for a moment, Curufin laughed out loud. “Can you imagine their faces?”

“Right on the dinner table, while Carnistir sips at his soup,” Celegorm continued, smiling.

Despite himself, his black mood at last began to lessen. “Perhaps he could embroider us, and make his tapestries more interesting.”

He glanced at Celegorm, who opened his arms, and Curufin went into his embrace eagerly. “ _Pia háno_ , we have a wonderful secret.” He held up his hand to show that he still wore the ring. “He wanted me to remove it. I would not.”

Curufin’s heart swelled suddenly, and he clasped Celegorm’s hand in his own, their fingers entwined, the rings they both wore clinking together. “Come back with me,” he urged. “It is only for a week or so, and then we will return home. I would not face that long journey without you. We can scout ahead again.”

“Yes!” Curufin said, in agreement. They got up and Celegorm called for the horse to take them both back at a fast canter. By the time they arrived, it was dinnertime again, and yet Caranthir studied them both, noting they had been fighting, and seemed satisfied.

He never again made any reference to them being together, at least not to Curufin. Not in any of their visits, even though over time it was obvious they had begun sharing a room. It was as if their brother had decided he didn’t want to know, and he and Celegorm went hunting often.

Curufin knew, because Celegorm told him, that each time they went out, Caranthir urged him to remove the ring, calling it “the ring of your doom” and yet Celegorm never did take it off.

Curufin removed his once only: to wed Limeithel, and as she slipped it back onto his finger during the ceremony, it was Celegorm’s eyes he sought out, staring at him, unable to speak, though a thousand words would not be enough to speak the vows and promises he wished to make.

Whatever Limeithel had expected from her wedding night, it probably didn’t bear any resemblance to what she got from Curufin…

 

To be continued...

**Translations:**

_Ammëngwa_ – our mother

_pia háno_ – little brother

_Véranya háno_ – My own brother

 

**Important Author's Note:**

Recently there was a anon troll on one of my stories. I reported the abuse, since the anon was linked to a previous abusive comment from a logged in user and had been encouraged to “join in” with trolling me, and my co-author.

AO3 have taken the unusual step of deciding that I am at fault because I quoted the abusive comment. Once. At the time when it was sent. AO3 have officially “warned” me, and are of the opinion that if you receive abusive comments to your inbox, you should keep silent about it and allow the abuse to continue. Or they will suspend you.

I am not sure if this qualifies as Orwellian or Kafkaesque on AO3's part, but their decision does have consequences. BronxWench's profile here explains a little more: http://archiveofourown.org/users/BronxWench/profile

And WillowDarkling's: http://archiveofourown.org/users/WillowDarkling/profile

I am in the process of removing my work from AO3, including this story. This is the last update I will post here, and I have done so as a gift to my readers. All of my stories, including this one, will be continued on Adult Fan Fiction where I am a moderator. This particular story can be found here: http://lotr.adult-fanfiction.org/story.php?no=600080231 If you are following this story, please update your bookmarks. If you would like to keep what has been written so far for your own enjoyment, I suggest you make use of AO3's download facility since this story will be deleted, at some point over the next couple of weeks.

If you continue to follow this story on AFF, and I really hope you do, I will see you there! If not, then thank you for reading, reviewing, and being generally awesome over the years that I have been active on AO3.

Please do NOT attempt to seek out any individuals involved. I have kept their name out of this author's note deliberately. They are not responsible for my decision in any way. I have also removed all reference to them in my comments section.

I am aware that this might be seen as flouncing, and in some small way it probably is (forgive me), but it's also the easiest way I could think of to contact all of my readers at once. To each and every one of you, I am truly sorry, but this is a bad policy and is not acceptable.

I didn't take this decision lightly. I gave myself plenty of time to think about it, and after all I have become so immersed in fandom community here. Those roots go deep, and some of my stories will stay because they must, because the recipients of those stories should not lose their gift over this matter. But they will be orphaned. It's not easy to disassociate from this site by any means.

But ultimately, as I said in my response to AO3's Abuse team, I am not in the habit of concealing bad behaviour, and that now includes their own. I am only left wondering how many others this has happened to.

With love to all,

So long, and thanks for all the ~~fish~~ kudos! xxx

 

**ETA:** As I have had a few enquiries, if you would like to be alerted when I post a new chapter, please send an email to [a.slash.writer@gmail.com](mailto:a.slash.writer@gmail.com) and I will let you know when I update. Please remember to say which stories you would like a reminder for! Thank you.

Aside from that it is four am in the morning here, and so I will respond to everyone's comments in a few hours time. Promise.


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